Such Great Heights
by Re. Stacks
Summary: Beast Boy manages to drag Raven on an unplanned all-night adventure in the city. But what they don't know, is that city music and late-night energy can uncover the deepest, sweetest, most untouched emotions.
1. The Spinnies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Teen Titans. But I do own some Oreos. Now that's somethin.

The title is from the song "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service.

and I won't deny that this story was/is somewhat inspired by a fabulous book titled "Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist". YES it was a book first.

**. . . . .**

* * *

Sometimes I wonder if there's any sort of undiscovered meaning between us.

It is in times like tonight . . .  
Like the day the two of us were working in the kitchen; Robin told us to make something special for Starfire while she was ill by some kind of "rare Tamaranian _glaufnikar_" or . . something that sounds like it. And we were trying to make some simple chocolate pudding, until he stirred in one of our alien's forbidden spices mistaking it for sugar, and the whole thing exploded. Brown gloop was _everywhere_; our faces, our clothes, the counter, the stove, the ceiling, Silky . . . all the typical stuff. And he _knew_ I'd be steaming furious once I turn around ready to give him the kill, yet there he was, just _smiling_ at me. And I was so taken back that I dropped my whole angry expression and just looked at him . . and he started laughing his high giddy laugh.

"Duuude, you shoulda seen your face when the thing EXPLODED outa nowhere, hahaha!"

I still didn't respond, because while he was standing there laughing his green ass off, chocolate pudding smothered all over his hair and dripping down his face, I couldn't help but feeling _it_ . . . and I couldn't really point out at the time what _it_ really was. But _it_ was definitely there. I just knew these things.

Same thing as when Cyborg was driving us to get pizza after we'd taken down Plasmus for the gazillionth time ('cause these guys just keep breaking out of freakin' jail somehow . . .). Cyborg and Robin were in the front, and Starfire, him and I were in the back, like usual. He was tired, so he'd turned into a dog and curled himself onto the middle seat, falling asleep _instantly_ . . . his slobbery snores clouding up the quiet atmosphere of the car, his head on my lap . . . and I turned my gaze away from the window to look down on him.

And, I don't know . . I just start thinking about him. This short, grass-colored, vegetarian thing of a guy, who's jokes are full of effort yet far from funny, and who's beaming overconfident look practically gives off a flashing sign reading, "LOOK, I'M NAÏVE _AND_ ANNOYING!" He'd been on my nerves for a number of years that I've already lost track of. I'd known him to be in love once . . . or at least somewhat in love; somewhat in love with someone whom I knew was nowhere near to my liking, yet I pushed that aside, for the sake of the team. And she still stabbed this guy deep in the heart—twice, in fact. Maybe not intentionally deep, but stabbed deep nonetheless. And to be honest, I'd never picked up the sense that he'd completely gotten over it.

So I looked down at him, thinking this, and once again, _it_ came back. Damn _it_. I ignored it, and moved my hand up to scratch him behind his ear; that I could tell got the ends of his doggy mouth to turn upward, deep in his sleep. I remembered my last thought about his past love as I did this oddly affectionate thing and said to myself (silently): ". . . You sad little puppy."

Even though I've rarely ever seen the guy truly, deeply _sad_, I've lived with him long enough to know that he's at least strong enough to pretend he really isn't when he is. He's kind of good at it, too—that or I can be too careless to notice when he is. Sounds kind of harsh when you think of it . . .

But there are obviously times when I know he's acting happy when he isn't. Like the occasional visit to Terra's statue with him (when nobody else was available, of course.), just to keep him a little company, or to be there if he ends up breaking down or attempting to slap her awake or some crazy crap like that, which has actually happened once or twice. I walked with him to where she stood, and there he was again, just smiling up at her. Only I knew it wasn't the same as the pudding thing. Maybe time is what made him stronger, but at the time I knew that behind his smile was an already-been-there-long-enough-but-not-yet-left kind of pain. . . Then of course _it_ came back, and I couldn't stop looking at him and thinking of such a sad little puppy.

I saw/felt the exact same thing when I saw his face this morning. . For it is the anniversary of her somewhat-death. . . and it is so clear that even today, even though it's been too long to remember, he is still not _completely_ over it.

I think I've had this strange _it_ feeling long enough to call it the _Spinnies_ (childish, but accurate) . . . because what exactly happens is that the entire world around me seems to start _spinning_, and then my mind starts spinning right along with it, and occasionally my stomach would start spinning as well. Practically everything and all of creation and the entire universe seems to be spinning, all except him. And I start feeling as if he's the only thing keeping me in tune with reality and that if I start falling into the spinning pit of nothingness he's the only thing I'll be able to grasp onto.

And within the spinning, I feel like seeing him, and only him, makes me feel this odd sensation of . . . I don't know . . . comfort. . like I wouldn't rather see anything or anyone else but him, which is unlikely because I nearly despise him.

It is how I feel during each time I get the Spinnies, during each of those moments I feel like there's a _meaning_ between us. During moments like now.

Mumbo had just been taken down after trying out another one of his ever-failing robbery scams. I'd been knocked out by a kind of giant cartoon pig blowing bubbles that'd been thrown out of Mumbo's hat, so here I lie on the pavement looking up at the stars in the city sky, when a hand is felt supporting my head and a familiar green face obscures my view.

"Hey, are you alright?"

_Spinnies._

"Yes, I'm fine," I reply sharply. I begin sitting up so he could back away a bit. He's got that caring/worried/honest look in his eyes as he looks at me and it's not helping the world spin any slower.

I look back up. Maybe the stars will seem comforting, even if they are spinning.  
If there's one thing I know for sure in this mess of a world, it's that the stars can always bring some good to whoever looks at them with an open heart.

I feel shifting from the one sitting on the pavement in front of me, which reminds me that he's still, which brings a totally new feeling of awkwardness along with the almost-faded Spinnies.

And then what happens next? He speaks—and asks the absolutely oddest, unpredictable, un- . . . _helpful_ thing that could be asked at the moment. I mean, does he really think that my answer would be anything at all useful or to his interests . . . _if_ my answer was actually able to come out?  
Because this nitwit doesn't bother to ask a "Do you wanna go home?" or "Why are you still lying here?" or even a "Are you _sure_ you're alright?" No, he goes for 'the road _never thought by the mind with common-sense to ever be taken_', and simply throws it out like it's just any other night, like it's something he should _always_ ask in a common situation like this:

"So . . . wutchu wanna do?"

. . Really.

* * *

**Ummm . . . can't make any promises as to when I'll update, so . . . sorry!  
I'm a mess, I know.**


	2. Pizza, Please?

**I do apologize in advance for the length of his chapter, 'cause I know some people don't enjoy particularly long chapters or it keeps them from reading the story altgether. So, sorry :/.**

* * *

Time: 10:48 pm

I'm sitting at a little checkered table in the veranda of a small pizza bistro on a side of town I've never been to. The street lights here are dimmer, more old-fashioned than that of the ones on the main street. And despite the late hour, the place looks nearly full with customers.

"_What do you think I want to do?"_ I'd replied to his question, as I sat on the street still recovering from the inevitable Spinnies.

This got nothing out of him but a thick awkward pause and a blank stare.  
Then a grin came across his face. _"Dude,"_ he exclaimed, "_I know _exactly_ what we should do! Come on!"_

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up from the ground, flagged down a taxi (for reasons I will never understand, as it appears that we do have super powers), and now, here we are.

Interesting how things work out that way. Oh look, here he comes now.

"Man, you cannot believe how long the line is at this time. Seriously." He carries one plate of pizza in each hand and places one in front of me.

"I can't recall ordering anything," I say dryly.

He takes the seat across from me. "I know," he said, "I took the honor of ordering something for you, _mademoiselle_." He does his best/worst impersonation of a French accent and a playful eyebrow wiggle. I roll my eyes.

"These guys have the best pizza ever in the entire city, no doubt," he takes a moment to savor every little detail of his plain vegetarian pizza in front of him like it's a gift from the gods. "There's no way you can pass this up, Raven, really there's not."

I feel myself twitch at the sound of his voice saying my name. Side-effect of the damn Spinnies, no doubt.

Without hesitation, he dives right in. Another unfortunate side-effect of the fore-mentioned Spinnies, I should mention, is that it drains every ounce of my desire for food; probably has to do with all the nonsense that goes on in my stomach.  
So you can imagine the look of disgust on my face as I watch this guy gorge himself out in all his vegetarian goodness.

He finally takes a pause and looks up at me, cheeks full and mouth greasy. "You're mnot gomna eat?" he mumbles.

I gag a little. "I'm gonna have to pass on this one, yeah."  
Pass-out, pass, same thing to me at the moment.

He swallows for I believe the first time. "Come on Raven," –twitch—"I promise you, it's the best. Better than anything you've ever tried in your whole entire life. You've gotta believe me!"

His persistence surprises me. "Why are you so serious about a pizza?"

"It's not just any pizza, Raven," –twitch—"it's the pinnacle of all gourmet pizzas, hand-crafted by angels to make the hallelujah chorus sound with each touch of your taste buds. It's a freaking gift from the gods, Raven!" –twitch.

I cock an eyebrow at him.

"Ok, maybe it's not sent by the gods, literally. But I'm telling you, you're missing half your life if you don't try this."

A pizza can't seriously do this to a person, can it?  
Then again, it's Beast Boy.

"Look," I groan, "I'm sure it's… great. But really, I'm just not hungry right now. At all. So—"

"Aw come on, you've gotta try at least ONE bite, just one."

"Really Beast Boy, I—"

"A-and if you don't like it, which I'm sure will not be the case, I promise, I'll… I'll…" he trails off, "just… one bite. Please?"

I look up at him for the first time. There's something probably in the dim streetlights or the lanterns hanging from the awning above us that gives him this soft, angelic glow, one I've never seen before, or would associate as looking so appropriate on him. I look him straight in his desperate deep emerald eyes. And I see how badly he wants for me to experience this sensational triangular slab of Italian gourmet. And I remember him being such a sad, little puppy. And I clench my stomach to stop the subtle twisting that's beginning to take place, because I'm not about to deal with that twice in one night.

He sees this. "If it's so hard for you," he says, "then I'll have to do it for you."

What?

"Close your eyes."

"Beast Boy, are you really—"

But he whips up one of our cloth napkins and ties it around my eyes in one motion, and suddenly I'm blind.

"Ok," he says, and by the sound of his voice I can tell he's got a damn big grin on his face, "open up!"

"Beast Boy," I snarl, "I've got half a mind to—"

"It's just one bite, come on, I've got the pizza right here. Now say 'ahh'."

I reach my hands to the napkin wrapped tight around my eyes, then sigh. A girl's gotta accept defeat sometimes. "You really want me to try this stuff soo badly, then fine."

"Ok, but first you gotta say 'ahh'."

A vein twitches in my head. I open my mouth and give a nervous, "…ahhhh…"  
I wonder what the other customers think of this.  
A blindfolded sorceress being spoon-fed by her green changeling teammate. That must be something.  
I truly hope nobody is seeing this.  
I feel the tip of the pizza reach my tongue. "Oh god, Beast Boy, this is so weird!"

He cracks up. He has that giddy, boyish, genuine laugh that you can distinguish only as his own, no matter how much deeper his voice has gotten over the years.

"Alright then, just do it yourself," he says.

I feel his hand encase mine as he hands me the slice he was previously going to insert in my own mouth. His hands are warm. Really warm.

Settle down, stomach, settle down.

"Ok, it's all yours, now just take one bite."

I feel him watching me intently. Now, I could just refuse. I could just burn two holes through the napkin with my eyes, spit some venomous sarcastic comments at his sincere green face and teleport back to the tower. I could do so many despicable things expected from the average me. But what holds me back, I have no idea. I guess I'm not in my average state tonight.

I open my mouth.

I bring the pizza to my mouth.

I feel his anticipation from across the table.

I slowly take a bite.

…Oh.

My god.

I chew slowly. Very, very slowly.

Is that a hallelujah chorus I hear? No, it can't be.

"Soooooo?" he sings.

I don't want to answer. I just want to keep this taste upon my tongue forever and ever.

I can't believe how accurate this boy's description was.

"Uh, Raven, hello?" He reaches over and unties the napkin from the back of my head and I can finally see, though as my eyes re-adjust to the light, everything appears fuzzier than I remember.  
And I see him sitting there across the table from me, just smiling and glowing. "What did I tell ya? Good, right?"

I swallow and clear my throat. "Yes, it's very good," I try to say as blankly as possible. He knows better though—when it comes to me, somehow he always knows better—and smiles. He knows.

I silently reach for another bite as he brings his attention to a straw wrapper he's fiddling with between his fingers. We're silent.

I continue chewing silently and look up at him. "Beast Boy," I say, "I'm curious." He looks up, astounded by my effort to converse with him in a regular tone. "How do you know this place?"

He chuckles, and I swear his pointy fang glimmers in the light in a way that can only be resemble to the man in the Old Spice commercials, only in a less cocky way and a more cute way.  
Did I just call Beast Boy cute?  
Ha, no.  
This pizza is damn good.  
"I dunno," he shrugs, "I just remember this one day I was trying to get my mind off things…" he takes a pause, as if the thoughts from that day haunt him until now, which, truthfully, kind of bugs me, "…I took a long stroll through the city, got hungry, and found this place." He regains the perky look in his eyes and takes a sip from his soda. "This is actually my favorite part of the city, as a matter of fact."

I take another bite and look up at him again. "Why's that?"

"I dunno," he shrugs again, "…it's just the atmosphere, you know?" He smiles and leans back in his chair and looks around. I do the same, and understand exactly what he means. It's not just this little restaurant we're at, but looking down the entire street—the sidewalks lined with bricks, the old streetlights, the trees lit up in Christmas lights, the people themselves ambling down the street on the beginning of this seeming-to-be-endless night—it's all different than the post-modern cutting-edge main part of the city where most of everyone's typical hangouts are located.

"Hey," he says. I turn my attention away from the atmosphere and back to him.  
He nods his head towards a direction behind me. I turn, and among the nearly fully occupied veranda I see a couple sitting across from each other at a table in the far corner. The girl—wavy chocolate hair, tan skin, big blue eyes, pretty in that sweet and innocent valedictorian who's waiting to graduate before having her first beer, way—has her elbows perked on the checkered table, smiling sweetly at the guy across from her. The guy—dark brown hair, peach skin, sensitive eyes—also has his elbows perched on the table and is fiddling with a straw wrapper, smiling and looking down at his hands.

"What about them?" I ask him curiously. (And silently take another bite, while he's distracted.)

"What do you think is up?"

I chew again and swallow. "Excuse me?"

"You know, what's their story? How did they end up here?"

"Is this one of those people-watching games you so often play?"

"Yeah," he smiles, "it's fun."

I for one, being the mature young lady I am, find it very preposterous that people in this world would find joy in such a ridiculous activity. And just because we're heroes, does that give us the right to judge a person/people at first glance and tell out their life story, with no knowledge of who they are whatsoever? No, it most certainly does not.

"I think he's gay," I say.

"Ha! What makes you say that?" he chuckles.

"Look at him," I say, "look at how his legs are crossed, right there, see?"

"Half the guys' legs in this restaurant are crossed like that."

"Ok, then," I wave my hand towards him in a 'go right ahead' kinda way, "you must be a professional at this, what do you think?"

He takes some time to analyze the couple (during which I snag another bite of pizza) before proclaiming, "The girl's a total straight-edge, they go to the same school, he's been crushing on her but she's been turning him away, 'cause her friends don't like how he behaves and think he's not right for her . . ." I lean back, amused at his descriptive knowledge of the strangers' lives, ". . . but she finally accepted his offer to go out and now they're meeting here secret, and by the looks of it, it's going very well." He claps his hands together once to conclude and looks at me.

"What makes you think she's straight edge?"

"Well what makes he's gay?" he laughs.

"You can tell by body language, and look, no straight guy has eyes that sensitive."

He turns his gaze back to the couple. "They're not extremely sensitive. I bet Robin's eyes look exactly like that."

"Beast Boy, as far as we know, Robin doesn't have any eyes."

"But look at them, look at the love between their eyes, there's no way this guy's gay."

I turn around to look at them and as if on cue, the guy reaches over and playfully shoves the girl's shoulder as a result of something funny that was said, and believe me, that was no manly shove.

I look back at Beast Boy. "You see?"

He laughs again. "Ok, ok, you got this one. Then what's their story, do you think?"

I turn around and look at them once more. Yup, by his shrill laughter and hand movements, this guy is definitely 'mo. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his cell phone to respond to a text, and while he's occupied I look back at the pretty girl, and that sparkle in her face has faded completely. In fact, she's not even smiling at all, she looks . . . sad. When her gu/ay friend looks back up at her, she quickly puts on a smile and gently laughs at whatever he said.

I find my sudden interest in these two strangers rather frightening.  
"I think," I turn back to Beast Boy, "they're best friends—you know, typical cute gay guy with his straight gorgeous female BFF accessory—"

"You think he's cute?" he interjects with a smirk.

I groan. "That's beside the point. Anyway, they've been best friends for a while. But he's got a boyfriend of his own—you know, like _boyfriend_—whom he was texting just now, but to me, hmm . . ." I pause, pondering on my sudden judgment on the couple, ". . . I don't think she's that happy with it."

Beast Boy leans back, amused at my sudden intellect in this game. "Why's that?"

"Because . . . I think she's in love with him."

He looks at me. "You think so?"

I look into his deep emerald eyes for a few seconds before nodding my head. (And taking another bite of pizza.)

He turns to the couple once more and then back to me. ". . . That's kinda sad."

"It is, isn't it." I look down at my pizza. All that remains is the crust. I never thought I could miss a piece of pizza so much.

I look back over at Beast Boy, but he's still gazing at some insignificant spot on the ground, lost in his own thoughts, that sad puppy-dog look back on his face again. And I know it's not just because of our judgment of the story between the gay and his BFF. Heartbreak stories remind you of other heartbreak stories, and by the defeated look in his eyes I can name one particular story he's thinking about right now.

It bugs the crap out of me. More than it should.

"So," I interject, trying to distract his thoughts, "uh . . . thanks for the pizza . . . and the game. It was actually kind of entertaining."  
My attempt at small talk. Very small talk.

He looks up at me and puts on a half-hearted smile, which reminds me so much of the girl and her gay friend, and somehow I feel deeply disappointed that I couldn't find a way to bring that genuine sparkle back to his face.

But I guess I didn't have to, 'cause in a split second he bolts up out of his chair with this eager and excited expression on his face, exclaims exasperatedly, "Dude, I've GOT to take you to this place . . .!" and for the second time in one night I find myself dragged by the wrist towards whatever Almighty Being knows where.

* * *

We run-or more, he sprints while mannerlessly dragging me behind-for 3 and a half blocks when I fnailly snap.

"BEAST BOY!"

He turns around to look at me, smiling. "What?"

"Firstly,"-I shove to release myself from his grasp-"you're hurting my wrist."

"Oh, sorry," he laughs. He's too happy to be sorry.

"Secondly, where in the HELL are you taking me?"

He puts his hands on his hips and tries to catch his breath. Yes, sprinting more than a couple blocks while dragging a girl behind you _may_ be tiresome.

"You said . . . game . . . and I, I remembered this . . . this uh, huh, oh, come on, we're almost there!"

He continues forward full-speed. And I stand there. And I wonder why I'm tagging along with this grass-stain. I wonder why I'm participating in the list of shenanians he seems to have planned out for tonight. I wonder why I'm letting him drag me across town by taxi to fancy pizza bistros or by sprinting to wherever this is now. I wonder why I haven't just ditched the guy and teleported home already. Why I'm letting myself put up with him and this long-ass night that inexplicably feels like it's just starting.

"Hey!" he calls from a few yards down the street, "you coming or what?"

And as cold and heartless as I know I can be sometimes, I realize that I can't bring any part of myself to do anything that could diminish that elated, extremely happy look on his face right now, for whatever reason that may be.

I step forward and run after him.

* * *

**I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but . . . it'll have to do.**

**I'm feeling motivated to continue this, so hopefully a better chapter will be added soon :).**


	3. Creepy Arcade Unicorn Pie

****

**Thought some of you may enjoy another chapter...**

Note: I know a random OC pops up, and I know everything seems random and irrelivent but I promise, things fall into place later on . . .  
Also I'm sorry if they seem out of character at any time, I'm trying to keep them as much in character as possible.

* * *

Time: 11:55 pm

"Beast Boy!" I yell up into his ear.

He turns around with that damn big grin still plastered on his face. "What?"

"Why are we here?"

He laughs and turns back around.

I groan. You know how earlier, I was wondering to myself why I'm tolerating to tag along with this grinny mess of a boy? Well, standing here in the center of a fully packed, noisy, lit-up arcade near midnight while he continues to wait for the downpour of what appears to be all the tokens in the token machine, and while I continue to glare down every numerous flirty look I get from each geeky midnight gamer in here that passes my wake (including one girl, to my discomfort), _REALLY_ gets me back to wondering why I'm tolerating this.

"Aaaaaand . . . DONE!" He turns back around to me, holding two large plastic cups filled with tokens, and hands one to me. I look up at him peculiarly, but before I can get my message across with my face he wastes no time in dragging me by the wrist exclaiming that, "We should start over here!"

We twist and turn between the numerous crowds of people until we stop in front of one of those light-y platform dancing game thingies.

"What?" I say.

Obviously not hearing me over the thousands of sounds traveling through the arcade, he motions for me to get on.

"Get on!" he yells.

I give him a look, but he ignores it completely as he jumps excitedly onto the platform and inserts two tokens into the slot beneath the screen. Immediately, the screen brightens up, asking him, "ONE OR TWO PLAYER?"

Without hesitation, he presses the button for two player.

"Come on!" He grabs my free wrist with both his hands in attempt to pull me onto the platform. I retain my position like a stone, doing this inane head shake "no" and a look of discomfort/fear on my face.

"Come on, you've never even tried it, it's fun! _Pleeeeeeaase_?"

The game warns him that it's about to start, and with one final, determined pull, I fall forward and stumble onto the platform next to him. He smiles widely.

"Ok!" he yells, "The object is to hit the arrows on the ground with your feet while they go across the screen, got it?"

I look down at my feet, and at the four arrows pointing forward, backward, left and right, surrounding my feet. I feel uncomfortably unfamiliar and very, very awkward. This probably shows in my face because Beast Boy touches my arm and yells, "It's ok! Just follow my lead!"

My arm burns at the point of his touch, and the look in his face is truly sincere, which bugs me on the inside to no end. What's worse is that the game is really starting.

Music starts blasting from the speakers. "_ARE YOU READY?_" it pronounces, just to freakin' mock me, I swear.

"_HERE WE GO!_"

Next thing I know, arrows are flying up from the bottom of the screen, and like any dumb schmuck I'm frozen solid in place, while Beast Boy next to me is stomping on arrow to arrow with all the energy he still has.

"What are you doing?" he laughs. I look down at my feet, then back up at the screen, then back at Beast Boy, jumping up and down and smiling. And he turns to me all smiling and for some reason my stomach melts and oh my god, here it comes . . . the Spinnies again.

I don't hear anything around me. I don't _feel_ anything around me. And I don't see anything around me, except him to my left, and this platform, and this game in front of me, telling me personally at what a horrible job I'm doing. And I think I'm gonna fall over except I don't fall over, I move. First my left foot, then my right, stomping backwards, then my left again to my left, and my right to my right. And somehow this continues and I'm suddenly in sync with the upbeat music and the arrows on the screen, and slowly the world around me starts to murmur back. And suddenly I find myself jumping to the beat of the arrows with all my energy, in sync with the one right next to me.

"Haha, that's it, Raven!" Suddenly his voice brings the entire world back at once. I notice a crowd forming around us, but at some point I stopped caring and stopped feeling so awkward. I can't hide it anymore, and as the music gradually gets faster and faster, a small smile creeps onto my lips. Then a bigger smile. Then a laugh, which gets the attention of the one next to me, and he laughs too. And we continue jump, jump, jump, jump, jumping, and at one point our arms start flailing, like this isn't some robot dance game we're doing anymore, it's just a dance.

Then the music stops, and the screen says "_CLEAR_". And I think I hear some sort of applaud around us, but I can't really tell. I guess the entire world hasn't really come back to me yet. 'Cause I'm just looking up at Beast Boy and he's looking down at me, both of us breathing heavily, and I don't realize how much I'm smiling until he reaches a hand up to caress my cheek, and I read his lips say, "I like it when you smile."

I turn away to wipe the sweat off my forehead, but really just to get his hand off my face. I can't believe myself; was I actually, for a moment, _enjoying_ what I had just taken part in?

'_No,' _I tell myself, _'not _just_ for a moment.'_

Ok, the entire time, whatever, my point is, that's just not _me_, I'm just not—

"I got all the tickets!" Beast Boy interrupts my thoughts, holding a surprisingly long tangled train of tickets in his arms. "Come on, let's go buy something!"

I follow him to the prize booth where we wait in line for some sour looking employee to count our tickets.

"By the way," he says, turning to me, "awesome job back there, I never knew you had it in you! I mean, man!"

We move forward in line. "Thanks . . ." I'm still recovering from my brief episode with the Spinnies, honestly, what am I supposed to say?

Some more geeks pass by and give me their best Johnny Bravo expression. I shudder.

Beast Boy dumps his tickets on the counter as we make it to the front of the line. The employee looks at him reluctantly before he feeds the tickets into a ticket counting machine.

"So," he says, gazing up at the vast collection of prizes, "anything particular you got your eye o—"

But I stop him mid-sentence with a sudden hit of his chest.

I see him.

No, no, no, no, _NO_, that CANNOT be him!

A startled Beast Boy leans down to talk in my ear. "What? What is it?"

"He's here!" I whisper frantically.

"Who?"

"Him, that guy over there, do you see him?" I point ever so subtly to him standing across the way but immediately drop my arm and turn away when he looks our direction.

"What, what's his deal?" Beast Boy whispers, his breath on my face now that I've turned positions to avoid eye contact.

"He's just, he's . . . that dinky café I used to go to all the time, you remember that?"

"Hmm, outrageously dark, unbearably depressing, yeah I think I remember."

"Well, _he_ worked there and got this huge insane crush on me and started trying to hit on me at every corner and I stopped going to that place and haven't seen him ever since and here he is now and I think he saw me oh my god I don't know what I'm gonna do!"

Beast Boy laughs like this is all a joke. I scowl at him. "No worries, I'm sure it's fine, he probably doesn't even like you anymore."

"_You _don't know him," I say fiercely, pointing a finger at him, "he is a _creep_ and I wouldn't be surprised if he'd followed me over here!"

"Relax, Raven, I don't even think he saw you."

The sound of his voice saying my name calms me down a bit. "You think?"

"Yeah, he's not even—" he turns his head to look at the guy, "—oh man, he's totally coming."

I look and it's definitely him, walking over to us, oh my god . . . what-am-I-gonna-do?

"Just be honest with him, tell him off!" he suggests.

"I can't, he'll make a scene!"

"Well, you're gonna have to do something!"

The cogs in my brain rattle back and forth.

"Quick, uh . . . pretend to be my boyfriend."

He laughs. "What?"

"Just do it!"

"Hey, Raven!"

We both look up at the same time and paste the fakest smiles onto our faces (at least, I do, he's just smiling out of the enjoyment of seeing me humiliate myself.)

"Heeey, Gavin."

Gavin stands there and smiles at me for another good awkward few seconds. "So! . . . What brings you here this fine, fine evening?"

Beast Boy next to me is working hard to stifle his laughter, I can tell. "Oh, you know," I say, "We just . . . came here for some fun. Me and him . . ." I motion towards Beast Boy.

"Yup!" Beast Boy exclaims loudly, and suddenly I feel his arm reach under my cloak and rest on my opposite hip; I immediately stiffen, but I remind myself to act convincing, act like this always happens. "The two of us, here to have some fun! Here we are! . . . Twooooo . . . of . . . us."

I look up at my fake green boyfriend (Beast Boy . . . boyfriend . . . real or fake, still a hard concept to grab) and he has this glorified glow on his face and in the presence of Gavin the Creep I can't help but creep a grateful smile onto my face.

I see Gavin dart his eyes to my hip, then back up at us, then back to my hip, and I'm sure his brain is working something real fierce because it takes a while before he finally says, "So you guys came here together?"

"Mm, mhmm, yup," I nod. But does this clarification mean a thing to Gavin? No.

He takes a step forward and looks me in the eyes sincerely. "So, I've been wondering how you've been doing? I haven't seen you in ages . . ."

I stand there, as my tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of my mouth, until the owner of the hand on my hip turns to me and says very loud and clearly, "Excuse me for a bit, honey."

I freeze at the word "honey". He turns towards the prize booth, as the employee has a special sour look on his face for waiting on us for a while now.

Oh no no no no, fake boyfriend, don't leave me out in the cold! This guy's bound to strike any mo—

"So listen," Gavin starts once again, taking one more step closer, "I've been thinking, after you're done with, you know, this, we could take a walk, catch up on some things, chat, you know?" I see his eyes traveling the length of my body but can't seem to find the sense in my muscles to retreat.

His eyes narrow. "Come on," he says, trying to sound alluring, though I'm too frozen in place to shudder, "we've got the whole night to ourselves. You can sneak away, and . . . he'll never notice."

And I swear, knowing this creep of a guy Gavin, in the next second he's about to make a grab for me when hallelujah! My savior comes in the form of a smiling green Beast Boy.

"Here you go!" He turns around and thrusts a giant, fluffy, white unicorn with pink hooves and beady eyes into my suddenly functional arms. "I know it's the one you wanted, honey-buns."

And he leans and nuzzles my cheek, actually _nuzzles_ it, and if that doesn't get the blood flowing through my body again, the appalled look on Gavin's face certainly does.

Fake Honey-buns touches my arm and says, "Come on, we gotta try out some more games." Then he turns to Gavin with a smile and a wave and a, "Real nice to meet you!" and he sweeps me over to the other side of the room.

* * *

We don't stop walking until we're in the entire different complex of the building, the one with booths and pool tables and a bar, and until there's more than enough people separating us from where we'd just left Gavin.

I let out a sigh of relief. No, relief is an understatement.

"Damn," he says, then turns to me, chuckling. "You uh . . . you got a pretty decent guy on your hands."

I give him a flaring look. "Do not even say that, he's a creep and a stalker and a—"

"Jeez, yeah, I know, I was only kidding," he laughs, "I mean he's not _ugly_, you could've given him a chance, I mean come on, he just likes you a lot, who could blame him."

I open my mouth to retaliate about giving Gavin any sort of chance when I process the "_who could blame him_" part in my head. And I feel something inside me go hot even though I know it shouldn't. But before I can say anything back to him his attention turns towards the bar and he asks, "Do you want anything to drink?"

I look up at him. "I don't . . . drink, really."

"'Kay, be back in a sec," he taps my arm and hurries off.

I stand there for a moment until I realize I'm completely alone. Some old guys playing pool across the way are giving me some funny looks so I head towards one of the empty booths and sit down, placing my prized stuffed unicorn beside me.

I look over at the bar to where Beast Boy is chatting with the bartender. And from afar, and underneath the perfect lighting, I finally get to appreciate his body's, well, undeniably satisfying development; the toned muscles of his back visible through his tight uniform, his shoulders slightly hunched as his strong arms lean himself onto the counter . . .

It reminds me of this one afternoon a few months ago, as I was standing around making tea in the kitchen. I heard the door swish open and in came Beast Boy, hair all shaggy, with no shirt on, glistening with sweat, obviously just coming in from a work-out. I turned away sharply, as if the pot heating my tea needed my undivided concentration, and I felt him move around in the kitchen behind me and mumble a, "Hey, Rae."

I took this as a perfect time to speak. "You know I don't like you calling me Rae."

"Yeah, I know," he replied nonchalantly.

I found the strength in myself to turn around.

And I know I'm not usually the girl to think this but . . . hot _damn,_ he has got some nice, rippling pectorals.

He took no notice of my gaze as it followed him to where he bent down to check through the fridge, and I couldn't help but notice his very surprisingly, nicely toned buttocks . . .

He got up taking a swig from a water bottle, and I felt my face go beat red, and I recall hearing a crash somewhere around the house and he made a casual point in telling me that my teapot was on fire before he headed out.

The thought of his well-shaped body hasn't crossed my mind much ever since.

Except during training.

And breakfast.

And when we pass each other in the halls.

And . . . yeah.

"All right," he chimes, sliding into the booth opposite from me. "I thought I'd get water for _the lady_, since you might be thirsty."

He slides a glass of water my way and turns to smile at the unicorn sitting next to me. "Oops, I forgot to order one for our new little friend here."

"That's ok," I say, "he tells me he doesn't drink much."

"Oh, did he say that?" Beast Boy gives me a playful smile and takes another sip of some exotic looking drink that I'm probably never going to have. "What else did he tell you, then, while I was gone?"

"He said . . . he likes how you handled the creep, back there . . . and he wanted to say he's really, really thankful, that you got us out of a bad situation, and that he owes you."

He laughs. "Well, you can tell him I said 'you're welcome', and I hope he has a fair life free of guys like him."

I give him a grateful smile, also out of our new motif that our new unicorn friend is turning out to be gay.

He smiles back at me from across the table. For a moment we just sit there, soaking in each other's smiles in the booth light.

"Here's your order." A waitress suddenly appears out of nowhere and drops two plates of apple pie in front of us.

"What's this?" I ask.

"I asked a waitress to order us some of this while I was at the bar. These are the best, they come from the same guy that works at the one diner just out of town."

The one diner out of town where Terra took him to.

He looks at it longingly, takes a bite, savors it for a moment, then takes another bite.

I look down at the pie in front of me, then back up at him. The smile has completely faded from my face.

He's still in between bites when I ask him, "Beast Boy . . . what are we doing here?"

"We're eating pie. Trust me, it's amazing, I've only had it once before this . . . but trust me, it's amazing."

"No, Beast Boy," I take on a serious tone, "I mean, what are we doing? Tonight? Here? Us? What is this?"

He swallows. "What, aren't you having fun?"

I sigh and look at some spot on the table. "It's just that my brain has finally been ticking and I don't understand what this is all about."

"What what's all about?"

"This . . . thing, this whole night, really Beast Boy, I just . . ." an image of Terra flashes through my mind, and the two of them laughing, and winning large stuffed animals, and eating pie, and her death anniversary being today/yesterday. I make myself to stand up out of the booth, but he stands up with me and blocks me from moving anywhere forward.

"Raven, what's wrong?"

"It just doesn't make sense ok? I mean tere I am lying calmly on the street after a fight and then all of a sudden you just drag me into this seemingly-endless night of events, I mean when have you ever done that?" I don't know where this temper is coming from, but pat myself on the back, I've just diminished that smile of his that I was just savoring a minute ago.

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying . . . why? I mean what is this for? Do you have alterior motives or something?"

"Alterior motives like what?"

"Like . . . I don't know."

"No, enlighten me, I'm _dieing_ to hear." I can hear the temper rising in his voice. That's another point, for Raven.

"Like, hmm, maybe, some long planned practical joke of yours? Or, you're trying to butter me up to confess something that's bound to land you in the barbeque?"

The main one crossing my mind though was something along the lines of, "_using me as an excuse to create an endless night to help you finally get over someone,"_ but even I'm not heartless enough to throw that one at sensitive Beast Boy.

"Why would you think I would do that?"

"I don't know, maybe 'cause you're Beast Boy?"

He looks up at the ceiling and I see his jaw clench. I've definitely hit some nerve right here.

"If you're not gonna tell me why," I say, "then I'm just gonna go—"

I make to turn around to leave, but I feel a tug on my arm and hear a "Wait . . ."

I turn to meet his honest, green gaze.

He sighs. ". . . I'm sorry if, this whole thing came on as a surprise to you. I mean, I could understand why you'd be thinking why the hell you're here."

I look at him. "Then why am I?"

". . . Because, maybe, all day, I've been thinking . . . 'Hey, I know this great part of the city that no one on the team knows about, and I've never shared it with any of them' . . . and, I saw you lying there on the street, tonight, and thought, 'You know, I could show Raven around town, I should take her. No one else. Just the two of us. I bet she could really enjoy herself.' . . . And so I asked you . . . well, more like dragged you along,"—I snort at '_dragged you along'_—"but, I took you out here just to have a little fun, Raven . . . no other reason."

He smiles down at me as I look into his gazing, sincere emerald eyes. And all remnants of Terra have left my brain as I'm thinking how that's actually real thoughtful, and sweet.

"I mean, I figured you have been, up until now," he says.

I look down, then around, and back up at him. I don't say anything.

"Come on," he sits back down in the booth, "let's finish our pie."

I follow his lead and sit back down, next to our gay unicorn friend. And as he sits across from me attacking his apple pie once again, I'm racking my brains for something to say to him, this sweet, thoughtful friend of mine, who I may be pissed off at for being hung up on his rocky blonde ghost of the past, but who also knows how to handle Gavin-leveled creeps and who orders me a drink when I don't ask for one.

"So . . . The two of us, here, having fun . . . Twooooo . . . of . . . us," I imitate the line he used back as he was being my pretend boyfriend.

"Yup, that's the plan!" he exclaims with cheeks full of pie.

Someplace deep inside me suddenly feels a shock of excitement . . . with the fact that the night still feels young, and I'm here with him to pull me along, wherever he may like, just the two of us.

But at one point, some Almighty Being decided to change that, because next thing I know I'm looking up at these three well-known good friends of ours, and they're staring down at us in each of their own individual ways that I can't even explain if we are in trouble or not.

"There you guys are! We've been looking for you two _all night_!"

* * *

**To be totally honest I typed this all up in one night, and I'm deadly tired and in no position to be judging it a well-written chapter or not, buuuut I'm trusting my instincts and uploading it, just as it is.**

**Feel free to share your thoughts, if you please . . **


End file.
